


Saline Solution

by Thatonefanfictionwriter



Series: Your City Gave Me Asthma Songfics [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Don't ship real people kids, Drug Use, Fictional personas, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, a lot of metaphors, author has Problems, got carried away, jschlatt is a ram, no beta we die like men, no idea how to tag so fuck it, they're married your honor, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatonefanfictionwriter/pseuds/Thatonefanfictionwriter
Summary: When Schlatt tries to talk to Wilbur about something serious, he panics and locks himself in the bathroom. Old memories resurface and the reality of things hurts.
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Series: Your City Gave Me Asthma Songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155641
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Saline Solution

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of my series for Your City Gave Me Asthma; I'm gonna be writing a fic based off each song (with Wilbur in of course) though it may vary with tones, things like that. The author is sad right now so angst for the time being.
> 
> A warning now, if you're sensitive to Suicidal thoughts/Attempts/Self-Harm I would not urge you to read this oneshot.
> 
> If you or anyone you know has thoughts like these please seek help, the author is going through therapy at the moment and this is just a vent fic so no need to worry. If you ever need to talk to anyone, don't be scared to reach out.
> 
> If you need someone to talk to or even mess around with please message me and we can talk, my discord is: Pint Sized Big Q#8652

He wasn’t ready to talk…

He was never ready for the talk… 

It was sprung on him suddenly like something out of a horror movie, his blood ice-cold as he heard the words leave Schlatt’s mouth. It had resonated in him and had left a sour taste in his mouth, the pit in his stomach growing forever bigger as he had locked himself in the bathroom. His stomach felt like a bottomless pit, constantly swirling and purging into the depths below, except, as the sobs grew louder, the tidal wave from that pit began to rise with the forever growing winds of agony, surfacing to the top and almost buckling over the sides. He hated this feeling; the feeling of emptiness, the feeling of a forever growing sickness; it reminded him of his forever growing sickness in his head. It was like a dark monster haunted his every waking moment, the large, growling beast wanting to eat him up from the inside. Starting with his heart, the muscle pumping quickly as the adrenaline flooded in, his eyes hazy and unfocused as he tried to control his breathing; he was breathing in for too long, making him start to splutter and cough up nothing, his throat already hurt and cracked from just the action. 

_ He was going to throw up, he was going to pass out, he was going to  _ **_di-_ **

He couldn’t focus, his mind rushing with thoughts like a train’s overhead sign, telling you the next stops and where you would be going, forever in a loop of stations, never to go another route. He was stuck on this journey, it revolved around and around in circles until it finally became old and rusty like a well-used razor, the wheels forever turning until it was abandoned, stuck in place for the rest of its natural life. The train cars rusting, the paint peeling from the outside, revealing the metal that was used in its construction, old and worn from the use of the tracks. The seats slowly starting to mould and deteriorate as the fabric split open, leaving it destroyed and unsalvageable; the tannoy over the top of the car once filled with passengers ringing out for the final time, its final stop. Maybe it would stop with old age, the rust setting in and the wheels becoming jammed, the passengers being told to get off at his final stop before it would be laid to rest. 

Or maybe, it would come to a stop abruptly. A collision perhaps… 

Maybe it would come to a stop and never move again. 

He had to get up; he could hear the concerned cries of the ram from the other side of the door… His Ram…

It felt just like yesterday when he used to just talk to Schlatt on a day to day basis, hopping worlds together, causing mischief. He fell deeply for him; however, he knew that he wasn’t his; at the time, he would’ve thought that he was straight, the way he talked about women and how much he loved them.  _ It would kill a piece of him inside every single fucking time…  _ He wanted to hold him close in his arms, he wanted him to kiss him, he wanted him to assure him everything was ok and that he would love him forever, but he felt like that was just a fantasy. That was until one night; he had told him what he had done and he got an answer unlike any other he had received. It was soft, gentle, the small hiccups indicated crying…  _ He didn’t understand what he did wrong. _

_ He didn’t understand why he felt sorry for him. _

_ He felt like he deserved it.  _

_ The sink ran red as he sat there and stared, not a sound coming from the boy’s mouth as he pressed to a vein, squeezing it tightly as he watched the dark, red liquid fall from his arm and drip in the sink; the sound almost peaceful, pleasant… He hadn’t planned to do it, but another day of abuse thrown was another day he would abuse his own body. Like it wasn’t a fortress; like the walls couldn’t recover from this attack. The glinting of rusty metal sat in the trash as he shook slightly on his feet. Last time was supposed to be the last time, he promised himself he wouldn’t but… It seemed like he had failed again to remember his promises; his plastic promises. It meant nothing to him really, he felt no pain in doing this, though he knew it would sting tomorrow. He didn’t expect anything to happen, nevertheless, the phone rang.  _

_ He let it ring a few times before finally picking it up, the worry of the voice coming straight through the phone, hitting him with a pang of overwhelming guilt. He was supposed to film today, he was supposed to hop worlds with him, and instead, he went missing… He ran away to do this… What a stupid boy he was as he heard the obviously distressed man talk to him, trying to calm him down as his head spiralled like that rusty train. The thoughts swirled as his chest tightened, making it hard to breathe as he gasped for air. His tears starting to build up in his eyes before he fell to the floor. He started to feel it when the adrenaline kicked in, the pain… It was almost unbearable.  _

_ But thats when he heard it, the phrase that had calmed him down from so many attacks, the sound of his ram’s voice cutting through the thick, choking air.  _

_ “Calm down, baby. Tell me what’s wrong. I’m here to listen…” _

He tried to calm down, knocked out of his thoughts by the man rushing the door, finding him crippled and alone on the floor, the bottle of pills he had hastily grabbed in his blinded panic now messily strewn across the floor. He was nowhere near close to being ok, ut he wanted to be better… For his ram, he had to be. 

The man ran over to him and cradled him in his arms, asking the inevitable question. “How many did you take?”

To that he sadly had no answer; he just absentmindedly shrugged and the man sighed, calling an ambulance for the taller one, the shrug was enough to know he had gone blind, something he did quite often to avoid stressful situations. He slowly moved to hold his hand, kissing every scar on his pale skin before ending at the golden band on his finger. He may not know what his husband was going through, but he’d try to help as best as he could. He made a comment, he made him laugh, he tried to keep Wilbur as conscious as he could while the ambulance was coming for him; he would make it out of this, he would get help, and he would be better. 

“Wow babe, you look like shit.” The ram joked. 

“Says the person who looks like he’s been crying.” Wilbur retorted back, a stiff chuckle rising from his broken voice. 

“Y’know… Maybe that talk can wait till later…”

Schlatt mumbled as they got into the ambulance, waiting to get Wilbur some saline solution…

He’d find a solution soon...

**Author's Note:**

> The author did not write this at 3 am finally, though she is only running on two hours of sleep. This is probably the fastest I've ever written a series without taking 3-week breaks. Maybe they'll come out once a day? Who knows!


End file.
